


how to write a love letter

by aestheticeighties



Category: Daybreak (TV)
Genre: AU, Canon Gay Relationship, Daybreak, Gay, Love Letters, M/M, One Shot, Original Character(s), idk what this is, josh wheeler - Freeform, turbo leaves to figure himself out, turbo pokaski, wesley fists - Freeform, wesley has to find turbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 23:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestheticeighties/pseuds/aestheticeighties
Summary: okay so this went over way better than i expected so i'm making more chapters!basically turbo disappears to go figure himself out and wesley fights through ghoulies and other tribes to find him because he's in love and refuses to give up on him
Relationships: wesley/ turbo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. love

wesley,

i don’t know if this is an explanation or an apology. you know i've never been one for words, but this time, they’re necessary.

i love you.

remember the homecoming game? the look you gave me before the bomb went off has been forever burned into my mind. every time i close my eyes, i see that moment. you looked disgusted at yourself, and i knew it was my fault. you say you need redemption for your sins, but they were never yours.

they were mine.

they  _ are _ mine.

every bad thing you’ve ever done has been because of me. and every bad thing i’ve ever done has been for you. you aren’t the one who needs redemption. it’s me.

so, this is my explanation.

when mona asks where i am, you can tell her that i’m gone. or dead, it makes no difference to me.

i don’t know who i am anymore. i’m not turbo pokaski, i’m not turbo bro jock, i’m not  _ anyone. _

i’m a shell of what i used to be.

i love you, wesley. i love you so much that i wish you had never met me. but, you did, and we’re left with nothing but the weight of our consciences and a few good memories. i don’t know how to end this. i don’t know how to write a love letter.

maybe i’ll be back one day. i don’t know. just don’t wait around for me.

i love you.

-turbo

p.s. i had josh spellcheck this. i told him not to tell you anything, so don't be mad at him. he says he's sorry in advance.


	2. hate

Wesley crumpled up the letter and shoved it in his pocket. It was exactly like Turbo to just fuck off without warning and not even try to talk things out. Fuming, Wesley stomped through the halls of the mall, pushing through other Daybreakers with a clenched jaw. His hand was on his sword, itching to pull it out and hit something, _ anything. _

On the other side of the food court was Josh, lounging in a chair and laughing with KJ. Wesley marched over and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him out of the seat and away from KJ.

“What the hell, man?” Josh said, trying to catch his footing.

“Oh, you do not get to say that to me,” Wesley spat, dragging him across the floor. He smiled falsely at KJ. “Sorry, I need to borrow Josh for a minute. He’ll probably be back.”

She just stared at him in shock.

Wesley kicked open the door to the supply closet and practically threw Josh in. He stomped in, slamming the door behind them.

Josh got to his feet, holding his hands up defensively. “Please tell me you aren’t actually trying to kill me.”

“I might!” Wesley retorted. He ripped the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Josh’s face sank as he registered what it was. “Listen, man, Turbo told me not to say anything, he-”  
“You’re old enough to make your own decisions!” Wesley shouted. “You don’t have to do what Turbo tells you! We aren’t kids anymore!”

“I know,” Josh said quickly. “He told me he’d kill me if I said anything to you.”  
Wesley sighed in exasperation. “Of course he did. And you believed him.”

“What do you mean?” Josh asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean, dumbass, that he wouldn’t actually kill you!” Wesley exclaimed. “He just knows that you’re scared of him! So he pretended to be scary so you would listen to him!”

“Oh,” Josh said, looking off into space. “That makes sense now.”  
Wesley groaned with frustration. “I swear, Josh, you are one of the dumbest people I have ever met. Did he at least say where he was going? Give you any sort of hint?”

Josh squinted, trying to remember. “I don’t think so.”

“Great.” Wesley sighed. “And now I have to search all of California to find him.”

“Let me come with you,” Josh offered. “Me and KJ could help you look, she knows a lot of people in the different tribes.”

“I’m going to put a stop to that right there,” Wesley retorted. “You are part of the reason we’re in this mess in the first place. I’ll pack my bag and go by myself.” He turned around to leave, but Josh stopped him.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Josh said.

Wesley tapped his sword, smiling. “I can take care of myself.”

He left, shutting the supply closet behind him.


	3. 4-H

When Wesley left the mall, the sun was beginning to set. He carried a backpack filled with food and water, stolen from Josh’s stash, and had both his swords strapped securely against his side. As he walked, he took out a can of blue spray paint, pushing on the nozzle to see if it had any paint left. It did. A stream of vibrant paint spread over the ground, leaving a twisting line alongside him. After a moment, Wesley sprayed a triangle at the end of the line, pointing in the direction of his travel.

_ Please find this, Turbo _ , he thought.  _ Please see this and come back to me. _

Where could Turbo have gone? No tribe in the immediate area would accept him, not after what he did. His house was a few days’ walk, through the 4-H territory. It was worth a shot, but Wesley would have to pick up supplies to buy passage through the farms. Any 4-H member could easily be won over by some junk food. Good thing there was a box of Goldfish sitting in his backpack.

The roads were quiet as he walked, nothing but the mutters of a few Ghoulies to break the silence. They wandered around aimlessly, not noticing as he slipped through the shadows of parked cars and piles of debris. The road began to slope up, the highway turning into an overpass, one that would have been packed with cars had California not been blown to dust. Cars were laid horizontally across the lanes, stacked into blockades against invaders and ghoulies alike. As Wesley got closer, two figures stepped out from the shadows, each with wide-brimmed hats and tall scythes.

“This is 4-H territory!” one called out. “State your purpose at once.”

“I’m just passing through!” Wesley called back. He swung his backpack around, pulling out the Goldfish. “I have food!”

The figures whispered to each other for a second, then waved him in. He climbed over the hood of a car, landing lightly on the ground. A fire burned brightly in a barrel, positioned so no light would escape the barricade. Wesley turned to look at the 4-H members. One, was a boy named Alex who Wesley was fairly certain had been in his Algebra class. The other was a short girl with frizzy blonde hair that he didn’t recognize.

“What brings you through here?” Alex asked, shifting his grip on his scythe.

“I’m looking for someone,” Wesley said. “I’m only cutting through the corner of your territory and then I’ll be out into the unclaimed parts of the city.”

The two 4-H members glanced at each other.

“What about the guy-” the girl began.

“Erica,” Alex interrupted, shooting her a warning look. He turned back to Wesley. “You said you had food?”

“Wait, what guy?” Wesley asked, looking in between them. “Has someone else been here?”

Alex shook his head. “No one else-”

“There was a guy here last night,” Erica said quickly. “Who are you looking for?”

“A guy,” Wesley said cautiously. “Tall, brown hair, brown eyes.”

Erica shrugged. “He kept his face covered. Didn’t really say too much.”

Alex snapped his fingers impatiently. “The food, now. Before I change my mind.”

“Of course,” Wesley said. He handed the box over. Alex shook it and, hearing that it was full, waved his hand towards the road.

“You can go,” Alex said. “No one should stop you but if they do, say that Alex and Erica sent you. They’ll let you through.”

“Thank you,” Wesley said. He started to walk away, but only took a few steps before he turned back. “The guy who came here last night, did he say anything at all?”

Alex sighed. “You really ask a lot of questions for someone who isn’t part of the tribe.”

“No, he didn’t,” Erica said. “Just paid us and left.”

“Thank you,” Wesley said again. “If I head back this way, I’ll bring something extra for you.”

He turned his back on the flickering firelight, walking up the overpass. His thoughts were racing faster than he could keep up with. A guy who kept his face covered and didn’t talk? It sounded like Turbo. If Turbo was being smart, he would be thoroughly keeping his identity hidden. And the only way he could do that was if he covered his face and didn’t talk. It seemed too good to be true.

A sheep let out a loud  _ baa _ , shaking Wesley from his thoughts. The overpass led through the northeast corner of the 4-H territory, over their man made farmland. Wesley leaned over the edge of the guard rail, looking down at the ground below.

The highway had been converted into a massive, self-sustaining farm. The western half had been made into a pasture, filled with sheep, cows, chickens, and goats, while the eastern half had been transformed into rows of crops. Wheat and corn grew side by side, dotted with sunflowers to draw out the radiation. It was incredible.

Wesley laughed under his breath. While the rest of Glendale was fighting tooth and nail to survive, the 4-H club had created paradise with their bare hands. If he ever got a chance to settle down, he was coming here.

He’d probably be dead before that happened.

So, rather than dwell on the thought of his probable demise, he kept walking. The highway began to slope back down, towards the edge of 4-H territory and the vast expanse of unclaimed land. Out there, there were no rules, no tribes, no order. Just Ghoulies running rampant over a lawless wasteland. It was a no man’s land. And Turbo’s house was about a mile into it.

The final barricade of the 4-H tribe rose up before Wesley. A single sentry stood guard, leaning against an overturned car.

“Hey, man,” Wesley called out. The sentry jumped and turned around. He was tall, with light brown hair and broad shoulders. His face was oddly familiar, with hazel eyes and freckles that-

“Micah?” Wesley exclaimed. “I thought you were with the jocks, what are you doing here?”

Micah squinted to see Wesley. “Huh,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see Wesley Fists here.”

“Yeah,” Wesley said. “Why are you here?”  
Micah shrugged. “Things were rough under Turbo. I was tired of being scared all the time. I walked over here, asked to join, and they let me in. I’m on guard duty until I prove that I’m not a spy, though. It’s really not too bad here.”

Wesley nodded, brain still trying to process what he was seeing. “Have you seen anyone else come through this way?”

“Yeah, just last night.” Micah scratched his chin absentmindedly. “I didn’t see who it was, though. Had a scarf-type thing around his face and didn’t say much. About your height.”  
Wesley’s heart sank. “My height?”

“Yeah,” Micah said. “Maybe an inch or two taller. Had a limp.”

“Thanks, man.” Wesley walked past him, climbing over the trunk of a rusted-out car. “See you around.”

“Later, Wes.”

Wesley stared out into the darkness, looking at the vast expanse of nothingness. Turbo hadn’t been this way. And no one had a clue where he was. Somewhere out there sat Turbo’s house, abandoned, decrepit. Hopefully holding some sort of answer as to where Turbo was.

A guttural scream floated out of the blackened streets, grating against Wesley’s ears.

_ Shit. _


	4. family ties

The trip through the unclaimed zone was less scary than Wesley had expected. There were more Ghoulies than in the tribes’ lands, but there weren’t many survivors. Either they were dead, sleeping, or had migrated to inhabited areas of the city. However, Wesley still kept to side streets and shadows to avoid drawing attention.

The further he walked, the bigger the houses got. They grew further apart, their yards changing from a few square feet of grass to sweeping lawns, dead from radiation. It was the richest section of Glendale, home to all of the preps. A large wrought-iron gate separated one neighborhood from the rest. Nestled behind the barrier were rows of modern white houses, with double garages and raised ceilings.

Wesley reached the gate, remembering all of the times Turbo had come out to open it for him. He looked down the street, half-hoping to see Turbo come walking out, wearing his blue and white letterman jacket and tossing a football in his hand.

Turbo didn’t appear.

A chain was coiled around the opening of the gate, held firmly in place by a padlock. Wesley drew his sword, silently relishing the sound of it sliding out of its sheath. He touched it lightly against the lock, then drew back, inhaling deeply. One cut, and he was in. He gripped the hilt, then-

The lock was already cut.

Wesley lowered his sword, quickly grabbing the padlock. The edges of the bar shone brightly, a mark to how recently it had been broken. He gave it a gentle tug, and the chain unraveled, piling onto the ground with a loud clang. Someone had just been here.

He pushed the gate open, walking through with his sword raised. The street appeared empty, rows of locked-down houses staring down at him. He picked up his pace, almost jogging towards Turbo’s house. The familiar visage was somehow comforting and foreboding at the same time, the darkness twisting it into a sleeping dragon, waiting to swallow him whole.

Wesley walked past the tire swing that hung from the crooked old oak tree in Turbo’s front yard. He held his sword out, creeping slowly across the gravel path leading to the large front door. His footsteps crunched loudly, each step sounding like a gunshot in the silent street. The tall oak door was already open, leaving the empty interior vulnerable to the outside world. A twinge of sadness pricked Wesley’s heart. He hadn’t been here since before the blast. The deserted house just served as a reminder for everything he already knew. Nothing would ever be the same again.

He walked into the foyer, sneakers sliding on the dusty tile floor. Footprints dotted the dirt, leading past the kitchen and into the “family room”. Turbo hated that phrase. The only person ever in that room was him, his maid, and occasionally Wesley. No family to speak of. Wesley followed the footprints into the house, making as little noise as he possibly could. It was pitch black. He had to squint to make sure he wouldn’t trip.

Wesley was barely breathing as he leaned around the corner into the living room. He froze, seeing a silhouette against the white curtains, faintly illuminated from the light of the moon.

“Turbo?” Wesley called out.

“Guess again.” The figure flipped on the lamp, allowing warm light to illuminate his face.

It was Wesley’s cousin.

“Emmett?” Wesley exclaimed.

“Surprise, cuz,” Emmett said, standing up. “Long time, no see.”

“I thought Triumph  _ ate _ you!” Wesley said. “How are you still alive? And what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Emmett laughed. Something was different in his voice. It was angry, cold, mocking. “You see how big this house is? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Right, and the house you stopped in just happened to be Turbo’s,” Wesley said, still tightly gripping his sword.

Emmett’s smile slipped off his face. “Nah, I just wanted to see what the big deal is. And I get it.” He looked up at the cathedral ceilings, punctured with glittering skylights. “I see why you left Compton.”

“It’s not like that, Emmett,” Wesley said. “I didn’t choose to leave Compton, you know my dad got a new job.”

“No, you didn’t choose to leave Compton.” Emmett’s voice was hard. “But you did choose to leave me. You broke my fucking leg at homecoming so your rich white boyfriend would let you stay.”

Every word hit like a blow to Wesley’s chest. “It was just a football game, Emmett. It wasn’t about you, or Turbo, or Compton, or Glendale. It was just a homecoming game.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Emmett shouted. “Do you see yourself? You’ve been sucking up to these white people from day one. These fools just want you to act like them!” He pointed an angry hand at the stainless steel kitchen. “People like this call the cops on you for selling cigarettes in the park. People like this say shit like ‘all lives matter’ because they think equality is racist  _ against them. _ ”

“Turbo doesn’t do shit like that,” Wesley said. “He’s not like that.”

Emmett laughed humorlessly. “You always trying to be something you ain’t. You’re no samurai, cuz. You’re just a little lapdog eating off the plates of privileged white folks.”

“I don’t think I’m white!” Wesley said. “I’m not trying to act like anything other than myself! And I sure as hell am not a fucking dog.” He tightened his grip on his sword.

Emmett stepped forward, limping on his injured leg. “Bark, bark, white boy.”

Wesley took a deep breath, willing his rage to calm. “I won’t fight you, Emmett,” he said. “I’m just trying to find Turbo.”

“The guy who you broke my leg for?” Emmett scoffed. “You’ve really been outta Compton for too long. He left, cuz. No use chasing after him.”

“Why?” Wesley said. “You seen him around?”

“Hell nah,” Emmett said. “He’d be dead if I had.”

“Why are you so angry at him, man?” Wesley asked. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Nah.” Emmett took a step closer. “But you did.”

“I’m sorry for what I did that night,” Wesley said honestly. “I should never have done that. I love you.”

Emmett stared at him coldly. “Just not as much as you love him.”

Wesley dropped his gaze. “I can’t leave you behind.” He sheathed his sword, looking back up at Emmett’s angry face. “Come with me. We can find him together, you can say what you need to say, and you can stop hating him for my mistake. Please.”

Emmett shook his head. “No. I’m staying right here. You can stay here with me, or you can leave to find him. Your choice.”

“Don’t make me choose between you,” Wesley begged.

Emmett shrugged. “You did it once. Do it again.”

Wesley’s eyes stung as he ran his hands over his hair. “Emmett, please, you don’t have to be so angry. Just come with me and we can figure this out.”

Emmett silently crossed his arms. He didn’t budge.

Wesley stepped backwards, choking back tears. “I’m sorry, Emmett,” he whispered. “I love you.”

He practically ran out of the house, desperate to leave it all behind him. But before he could shut the door, he caught a final glimpse of his cousin’s face.

It was the first time Wesley had ever seen Emmett cry.


End file.
